


because

by verbatiim



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch, Emotional Manipulation, First Kisses, M/M, Post-Recall, Shotgunning, Suicide mentions, Verbal Abuse, did someone say dysfunctional family asmr, soft cowboy disorder, these are used extremely loosely but i figure i should warn yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 04:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbatiim/pseuds/verbatiim
Summary: Because he wants it. Because he doesn't deserve it. Because he knows, somewhere deep in his chest, that they aren't going to know each other forever.No one will ever make Jesse McCree as fucking crazy.





	because

They’re here again.  


Genji can’t help but remember the first time.

  
Back from Venice, the moment the wheels hit the tarmac McCree’s got a foot out of the ship and he’s _fuming._ Not that he wasn’t the whole ride back, of course, but the silent brooding underneath his hat was a change of pace from the screaming matches that had rung out through the streets of Rialto. And the huffy little military walk he’s got right now.

  
Reyes rolls his eyes rather than continuing to provoke him. Technically, the mission was a success. Technically, they all made it back alive. Technically, his job as Commander was done.

  
But technicalities never satisfy Jesse, and Reyes knows there’s gonna be a long few weeks ahead of them at this rate.  
  


Genji watches all of them as they ignore each other while walking in the same direction. It’s awkward, and childish, and he blinks heavily as if considering sleeping right there. The automatic lights in the garage turn off before he finally stands and comes to terms with the fact that he’ll have to go inside. Fio is one of the only people here who isn’t afraid to put Genji in his place. His knees click, right then left, out of sync little snaps that make him groan with the old familiarity of the feeling. He can’t feel it now, of course, but he remembers the sound like an old song, of his father joking that he’d been growing old even in his teenage years.

  
Your body never feels older than when a third of it goes missing.

  
He twists his neck side to side, pops his shoulders, tries to regain function in all of his extremities before letting any more blood rush to his brain. It doesn’t matter, in the end. Foolishly, he follows the only path he can think of when they’re like this. Loose threads of ripping seams rather than people.

  
It isn’t suicidal. Not exactly. Not directly. But intruding on McCree when he’s in a certain headspace yields varying results, he’s discovered, and some of them make him wish it were.

  
Genji catches up with him right outside of his quarters. He’s already removing gear, holster and hat in one hand as he grapples with his own chestplate, movements twitchy. Getting more frustrated by the second. He’s on the edge of blowing up, easy to recognize and hard to resist watching. It’s poetic, in a way, witnessing someone fall apart and not being able to stop it. Or sadistic. He hasn’t been able to pinpoint that one quite yet.

  
The door doesn’t slam the second McCree crosses the threshold, which means he knows Genji’s there.

  
They don’t make eye contact for six minutes and thirty-three seconds. Genji counts his breaths and heartbeats and the soft jingling of McCree’s belt coming off. The way it falls to the floor. The way he runs both hands through his hair, linking fingers together behind his neck and holding, like he’s trying not to fall through the floor. Silently, Genji pulls his faceplate off like a reciprocation of vulnerability.

  
It’s not in them to talk things out. So they won’t. Come to think of it, Genji doesn’t want to. He’d heard it all within an hour of Antonio taking a shotgun shell to the chest. He walks past McCree like a ghost and sits on the bed, turning the piece of metal over in his hands. It’s not in them to talk things out, so instead they stare, caught in limbo like they’ve had a habit of it. Argue about shit to disguise what’s really on their minds.

  
“You’re on his side, huh.”

 _  
No. _His upper lip twitches.

  
“Makes sense, I guess. You kissing ass. Haven’t been here long enough to know it doesn’t do shit.”

  
McCree has never kissed anybody’s ass. Not here, anyway. Crawling with government agents who, for all intents and purposes, make him feel more like a criminal than he actually is.

  
Genji hasn’t, either. They both know this. He’d been officially assigned to the Blackwatch recon team for five years, he knows what works. What doesn’t. What’ll get him put on lockdown, suicide watch, probation, or just given the stink-eye for about a week.

  
He’s not taking sides, and he’s not kissing ass. But McCree’s angry.

  
“Nothin’ to say?”

 _  
You aren’t listening to me, _ Jesse’s eyes say. The set of his scowl and the furrow in his brow. _I thought you trusted me. Why don’t you trust me?_

  
“We had a plan.” Genji concedes, head cocking ever so slightly to the side. It’s the introduction to an offer. A question. McCree knows it when he sees it, crosses his arms over his chest as if he’s prepared to deny. “Though I suppose one must ask themself…” His nose scrunches up at the wording. “What is more important?”

  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”

  
“Would you rather follow a plan, or ensure the safety of your own people?”

  
Jesse rolls his eyes, this time. Looks exactly like Gabriel when he does it. Uses it at the same times, too, when he knows someone’s got a point but he doesn’t wanna admit it. That explosion nearly killed Gerard. Could’ve done a lot of damage to some others, too, if it were any bigger. Any stronger. McCree wants to pretend the possibility of it happening again would be eradicated easily because he’s scared.

  
Genji removes the rest of his headgear. Sets it down on the mattress next to him. The cloth mask goes last, allows cool air to rush over his nose and mouth for the first time in a few days, and he drinks it in like water. McCree stares because he knows it’s rude.

  
“Shoulda just agreed that you had nothing to say.”

  
“Maybe you should learn to recognize when you’re wrong.”

  
And there’s the breaking point. There’s no physicality. McCree won’t lay hands on Genji because he knows he’ll lose, because he isn’t a violent man, because he doesn’t want to. But it looks like he thinks about it for the split second before he starts really yelling.

  
Perhaps that's the thing with Overwatch. It was only ever really meant to bend you so far that you snap. There's a little bit of suppressed awe in Genji for the way that McCree loses it so quickly and completely, like he's been waiting. Just begging to be asked if he would.

  
“And you're just gonna fucking stare.” His voice cracks on the comedown. He'd scream all day if he could, if he wanted to, but it isn't as fun with Genji. There's no fight. No one screaming right back. Not like Reyes, that song and dance practiced a million times over. “Stop _looking at me._ ”

  
Genji shakes when he's startled. Little jolt like he's been shocked and he won't cry but it puts the same feeling behind his eyes, in his throat. He lets his palm hover face-up in front of his chest. Tries to ignore how it quivers with him until he can't anymore.

  
He's not scared, and he couldn't be, and he won't be, because McCree is not scared of him. They are a case of give and take. Two sharp edges, barbed wire boys, touching and tangling in dangerous ways and sometimes Genji regrets letting himself get here.

  
Jesse reaches out to touch, just fingertips grazing the inside of his wrist.

  
Genji regrets nothing.

  
He grabs onto McCree's hand to hoist himself up, staggers and balances and observes. Lets his face get too close to Jesse's because he can. Because he won't be pushed away. If things were different, Genji would kiss him. If they were teenagers. If they were normal. If it didn't feel manipulative, in a way, getting him to shut up like that.

  
Instead he tilts his chin up to allow their mouths a polite introduction. Breathing easy, hitched, like they'd already finished the kiss they never got. McCree doesn't move. He isn't scared of Genji, but he is scared of this.

  
Because he wants it. Because he doesn't deserve it. Because he knows, somewhere deep in his chest, that they aren't going to know each other forever.

  
No one will ever make Jesse McCree as fucking crazy.

  
“Stop being afraid of things when you know the outcome.” He mumbles it, like it's some sort of romantic secret. A hot little huff puffs out over his lips and he almost smiles. “You know that this is falling apart. Are you going to stay and watch it happen?”

  
“Maybe if _he_ —”

  
“I only asked. We would be in the same position whether the base had been infiltrated or not.” Eventually, Genji gives him space to take in his own oxygen and begins to collect his things. Replaces the cloth part of his mask, if nothing else, because there's a long walk to where he wants to go. McCree watches. “I don't expect you to be here at sunrise, most days. You seem like a man who knows when to give up.”

  
Because he is.

  
Blackwatch doesn't last long in the public eye. Dismantled within a year, barred from operating outside of Overwatch protocol, and Jesse doesn't take it too seriously until he has to. Lasts barely three months after the Uprising before he isn't there at sunrise anymore.

  
Genji knows what happened, but he pretends he doesn't for a few weeks. Because he can. Because he has to. Because he provoked it, didn't he, and now it's happened and he's gone and he's alone.

  
Nearly a decade later and he still thinks about it. The way he dared McCree to desert the place.

  
It's almost funny, now, in hindsight. Being so self-destructive that you’d push something so dear to you away just because you thought you should. Because you thought that’s what he’d want. It could have killed him. Both of them, even. A little more unstable or a little less of a will to live. Genji can barely imagine where he’d be now if he weren’t right here.

  
Jesse's got his back pressed flush against the wall, smoke spewing out the side of his mouth as he tries not to exhale it all in Genji's face. Looks like he's trying not to smile, too.

  
“Just gonna stare?” Genji nods with a slight sense of urgency. “Not very polite of you, sweetpea.” He nods again. McCree laughs.

  
“Do it.”

  
There's a long moment of hesitation, there, like he's weighing fates. It isn't a hard decision. No morals in it, not exactly. McCree grunts a little as he takes a long drag from his cigar and holds it. Genji presses ever closer.

  
The smoke's released in little tendrils, pretty phantoms wisping out from between Jesse's lips and into Genji's. McCree lets it depart from his mouth on its own. Genji sucks it in like air. Allows it to burn his nose and his throat and his lungs, grins like he feels alive again. Because he does.

  
Kisses Jesse for real, this time, for the first time, because he wants to. Because he can.

  
And then it's quiet.

  
The rest of the cigarillo falls to the ground, stomped out under one big boot. McCree's head hits the wall behind him with a dull noise and he sighs through his nose. Keeps his eyes shut. He's thinking, now, trying to decide what it is he's expected to say. Genji speaks instead.

  
“I've missed you.” They're close enough that it's like the first time, again, quiet and private but much less devastating. He's beginning to think they'll know each other forever. Anxiously, selfishly, childishly, he hopes McCree thinks so too. “Say it back.”

  
There's that laugh again.

  
The recall had been initiated nearly four months ago, now, but the complicated _is this going to crumble again_ always hangs over their heads. Genji has seen Jesse McCree's face every day for the last eleven weeks (he was late, didn't even plan on coming, _shouldn't’ve come, really, wanted criminal and all that_ ) and still, he misses him.

  
Jesse kisses him again, reassuring. Because he wants to. Because he can.

  
Because he's not scared of this.


End file.
